Gone In The Morning
by Artemisdesari
Summary: After 5x13, Dean and Castiel confront certain feelings. Rated for a reason and Dean/Cas obviously!


_This episode has officially taken over my brain. It's a bad thing and it should be punished. On the plus side, my friends get the smut that they've been asking me to write (though it's not as heated as usual)._

_Also, dedicated to Panda, because she wanted it and I couldn't say no._

_**Disclaimer:** Nope, still not mine. I keep checking and coming up short. Needless to say, as soon as they are mine, you will all know about it.  
_

Gone In The Morning.

Dean fell asleep at around three, having spent hours watching Castiel as he lay unconscious while Sam slept off the vast quantities of whisky that both had consumed. It has been a long and hard day and even though Dean has a lot on his mind, it does not take him too long after the bottle is emptied to fall asleep, even with his worry about Cas and his insecurities following his conversation with Michael. Part of him knows that he should stay awake to watch over Castiel, in case the angel needs his help, but the greater part of him needs and craves sleep and he cannot deny it, injured and drunk as he is.

When Sam wakes him the next morning, Dean is at a loss to explain the anger and sorrow that war within him when the first thing he sees is his empty bed. He reasons to himself that it is the way that his back aches from hours slumped in an uncomfortable chair, tells himself that he is not disappointed that the angel left without saying goodbye because that is just Castiel's way. So he tries to pretend to Sam that his grouchiness is just a headache from the booze and a long night and he knows that Sam does not believe it in the slightest.

In the end it is nearly a week until he sees Castiel again and the whole time he worries and he frets about the angel, wonders where he is and what he is doing and still refuses to examine the thought that there might be something more to the concern and shortness of temper than he is willing to admit. _Sam,_ on the other hand, has not let it drop and Dean has taken to going out in the evenings and drinking, _a lot, _to get away from the significant looks and the smug silences as Sam acts like he thinks he knows something that Dean does not.

So when Cas turns up in the bar of the evening, blue eyes staring at him all soulful and disappointed that the hunter has chosen this way to deal with his problems again, and that is the last time that Dean _listens_ to Sam's psychobabble, Dean purposefully ignores him in favour of another glass of Jack and another after that.

"Dean..." when the angel breathes his name the hunter knows that it is time to get out of the bar, because this is going to come to angry words, maybe even to blows, and the last thing that he needs is for that to happen in a bar full of drunk civilians. He gets to his feet, grasps the edge of Castiel's sleeve and all but drags him out with him, down a nearby alleyway where he rounds on the angel.

"Where the _hell_ did you go?" He demands, sees Castiel's mouth open and does not give him a chance to finish. "You don't just pop out after waking up from a coma, Cas! You let us know you're okay."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas says after a long moment, "I didn't mean to cause you concern."

"_Concern_?" He cannot quite believe what he is hearing. "Dammit, Cas, you're our _friend_, you're _family_, you don't just..." he makes a strangled noise, not quite able to make the words he wants come and that feeling is back, the feeling that has been burning in his gut since Cas turned his back on him in that warehouse near Pontiac. Castiel has his back to the wall and he is pushed violently against it when Dean surges against him, pressing hungry, confused, lips against the dry roughness of Castiel's own. It is desperate, it is raw and the angel takes a long moment before he responds to it.

The angel's response is no less angry, no less needy and his hands fist into Dean's jacket as he moves to push the hunter away, but Dean is still angry and not in the mood to let Cas get the upper hand in this, uses his height and his position to push the angel harder against the wall, forearm crushed tightly between them as he presses against Castiel.

He breaks away when he needs to breathe, running his teeth along Castiel's jaw and relishing in the gasping noises that the angel makes as he presses closer, presses tighter, his jeans too tight and the friction all at once not enough and too much and there is an answering press against his thigh. He suckles at the angel's neck, hands pushing at the trench coat until Castiel moves his arms and shrugs it off, a bruise forming where Dean has nibbled and sucked and the hunter growls at it, the sight of the mark making him even more angry.

He kisses the angel again, fumbling with sensible black pants and belt, fingers not quite capable of obeying his commands and it comes as a surprise to him when he succeeds in pushing them apart and down around Castiel's knees, fingers dipping inside soft cotton boxers to caress hardened flesh and the angel _whines_ at it and it is the hunter's undoing.

"Turn around," he hisses and Castiel obeys, just like that, and if anything that makes Dean even _more_ aroused than he was just a moment ago. His own hands make short work of belt and jeans, pushing them out of the way just enough to free himself to cold air. He spits into his palm, coating his fingers and then easing them inside Castiel, one at a time, slowly, easing the angel open and trembling with the restraint of it, desperate to be inside and lay claim and show Cas just how _much_ he needs and wants him.

Ultimately it is the breathless gasps and gentle murmurs of his name that causes Dean to lose patience, to remove his fingers and slick himself up. He bites down on the back of Castiel's neck as he eases inside, one hand bracing himself against the angel's hip as the other keeps time with his thrusts and even as he burries his face in the Cas's neck, vaguely hearing glass shatter around them as the angel's shout is intensified by his true voice, Dean is finding his own release, hard, blinding.

He is not the only one gasping for breath as they both come back to themselves, not the only one overwhelmed by both the experience and how far this whole thing went. How he went from angry to horny in about two seconds and how pliable under his hands Cas was.

"I understand," Castiel whispers, voice more gravelled than usual and the thing of it is, Dean really believes that he _does_.

_Artemis_


End file.
